 |
| this image shows the lower body of the Goddess standing upon the recumbent body of a sadhaka beneath a pale moon. A white current rises between them, suggesting the inward withdrawal of manifested power into the motionless ground of Akula. The image conveys repose, possession by Śakti, and the still center reached when all expansion returns to Bhairava. |
After the dense yogic unfolding of verse 33 — the beginningless Heart-bīja, the Heart-lotus, the lunar essence, the nectar-current, the kalās, the Heart-to-dvādaśānta movement, and the recognition that the Triṃśikā is an Anuttara-sūtra carrying inexhaustible meanings — Abhinava now lets the text ask a direct practical question: what happens if this practice is actually performed?
This is not a minor question. The previous section brought the doctrine down into yogic method. It was no longer only the metaphysics of Anuttara, nor only the re-reading of pūjā into the Heart. It became abhyāsa: repeated practice, inner placement, lunar fullness, subtle current, and Heart-japa. Now the root Tantra states the fruit of such practice in unusually strong terms: whatever desires one desires, those one quickly obtains; from this, directness arises; sarvajñatva, all-knowingness, is attained — without doubt.
This can easily be misunderstood if read superficially. The verse sounds, at first glance, like a promise of magical desire-fulfillment. Practice the method, obtain whatever you want, become all-knowing. But Abhinava’s commentary immediately deepens the meaning. The fulfillment of desire here is not ordinary ego-wishing. It arises through the force of hṛdaya-vīrya, the potency of the Heart, when the practitioner’s will is no longer merely personal fantasy but is lifted, steadied, intensified, and supported by the all-containing Heart.
The key is that the practitioner becomes connected with a Heart that is sarvamaya, made of all. Therefore, the arising of desire is no longer the same as the scattered craving of the contracted individual. A desire empowered by Heart-vīrya carries a different force. It is not weak projection. It is not the restless imagination of lack. It is the surge of icchā rooted in a deeper field of Consciousness. Through repeated establishment in that state, the desired object is attained quickly.
But even this is not the real climax. Abhinava says, “What more need be said?” The true fruit is sarvajñatva — all-knowingness — and he immediately identifies this with Parabhairava-nature in this very body. This is important. Sarvajñatva is not merely encyclopedic knowledge, not knowing every fact in a modern informational sense. It is the recognition of all from the standpoint of Parabhairava, because the practitioner’s own being has entered the Heart that contains all. It is knowledge through identity, not accumulation.
The closing line of the commentary on verse 34 points back to a theme repeated many times: Bhairavatā arises in viśrānti, in the repose that comes when the expansion is withdrawn. The movement spreads outward as desire, power, and manifestation; then it is gathered back into Akula, into the repose of the Heart. There, in the completion of expansion and its return, Bhairava-nature is reached.
So this movement must be read as the fruit-section of the yogic method. It does speak of desire-fulfillment, but not in a crude wish-granting sense. It speaks of the Heart-vīrya rising into will, the repeated stabilization of that state, the attainment of the desired fruit, and then the deeper fruit: directness, sarvajñatva, and Bhairava-nature in this very embodied life.
The practice begins with the Heart-bīja.
Its first fruit may appear as empowered desire.
Its true fruit is the direct recognition of Parabhairava.
The root verse promises desire-fulfillment, directness, and sarvajñatva
kim itthamabhyāse sati bhavati (?) ityāha
yānyānkāmayate kāmāṃstāṃstāñchīghramavāpnuyāt |
asmātpratyakṣatāmeti sarvajñatvaṃ na saṃśayaḥ || 34 ||
“Now he says what happens when this practice is performed:
‘Whatever desires he desires, those he quickly obtains. From this, directness arises; all-knowingness is attained — there is no doubt.’”
After giving the yogic practice of the beginningless Heart-bīja, the text now asks the obvious question: what is the fruit? What happens when this abhyāsa is actually performed, repeated, stabilized, and allowed to ripen? The answer of the root Tantra is direct and forceful: the practitioner quickly obtains whatever desires he desires; from this practice, pratyakṣatā, directness or immediacy, arises; and sarvajñatva, all-knowingness, is attained without doubt.
At first glance, this verse can sound almost too strong, even dangerous. It appears to promise rapid desire-fulfillment and all-knowingness. If read crudely, it could easily be reduced to a tantric version of wish-magic: do the practice, get what you want, become omniscient. But that would be a shallow reading. Abhinava will immediately reframe the verse through the power of the Heart. The desires fulfilled here are not simply the scattered cravings of the ordinary ego. They arise in the context of hṛdaya-vīrya, the potency of the Heart, after the practitioner has entered the beginningless bīja, the lunar essence, the Heart-lotus, and the subtle cycle of creation and withdrawal.
So the verse should not be read as a license for egoic appetite. It speaks of desire after practice has been joined to the Heart. That changes everything. Ordinary desire is usually born from lack, contraction, agitation, fantasy, comparison, fear, hunger, or compensation. It says: “I do not have; therefore I must possess.” Heart-rooted desire is different. It arises from a deeper field of Consciousness, where icchā is not merely psychological wanting but Śakti’s power of manifestation.
This is why the verse moves from desire-fulfillment to pratyakṣatā and sarvajñatva. If the point were merely to obtain objects, the verse could stop after the first half. But it does not. The deeper fruit is directness: the collapse of distance between knowledge and reality, between the practitioner and the field known. From this directness comes all-knowingness, not as accumulation of facts, but as the Heart’s capacity to know because it is no longer standing outside what it knows.
This distinction is essential. Sarvajñatva here should not be flattened into a modern fantasy of informational omniscience, as if the practitioner suddenly knows every phone number, every chemical formula, every event in every galaxy, and every historical detail. Abhinava is not speaking in that register. All-knowingness in this context is rooted in Parabhairava-nature. It means knowing from the standpoint of the all-containing Heart, where the knower is no longer merely a contracted individual facing an external universe. It is knowledge by identity, by direct participation in the ground of all manifestation.
The verse therefore has a layered meaning. On the outer level, the practice empowers desire and brings desired fruits. On the deeper level, it brings directness. On the highest level, it ripens into sarvajñatva, the recognition of all from the Heart of Parabhairava. The movement is from desire, to directness, to all-knowingness. It begins where the practitioner may still be — with desire — but it does not end there. It carries desire into the Heart until the deeper fruit is revealed.
This also preserves the continuity with the previous warning about siddhi-oriented yoga. Abhinava has already said that siddhi-seeking is not outside Anuttara, but compared with jīvanmukti it reflects a weaker śaktipāta because it remains relatively incomplete. Now the Tantra speaks of desires being fulfilled. So the reader must hold both points together. Desire-fulfillment can occur within this yogic path, but it is not the ultimate dignity of the path. The real dignity is pratyakṣatā and sarvajñatva — direct Heart-recognition and Parabhairava-knowledge.
So this verse is not a cheap promise. It is a dangerous promise. It says that practice can empower desire, but then it immediately points beyond desire. If the practitioner clings only to the first half, he remains in the field of attainment. If he follows the verse to its end, desire becomes a doorway into directness, and directness into the all-knowing Heart.
The same practice can become a path of power.
Or it can become a path into Parabhairava.
The difference lies in what the practitioner ultimately seeks.
Desire is fulfilled through the surge of Heart-vīrya, not ordinary ego-wishing
evamabhyāsāt yadyatkāmayate tattadacirādeva tathāvidhasarvamayahṛdayavīryasamucchalitecchāprasarāvaṣṭambhaviśeṣabalodyogasaṃrambhasotsāhaḥ punaḥ punaḥ tatsthitirūḍhirūpābhyāsāt prāpnoti
“Through this practice, whatever he desires, he attains that very thing quickly. For his will has become an energetic expansion, supported by the particular force, exertion, intensity, and enthusiasm that arise from the surging vīrya of the Heart, which is of such a nature and made of all. By repeated practice, whose form is firm establishment in that state, he obtains it.”
Abhinava now explains how the promise of desire-fulfillment should be understood. The root verse says that whatever desires the practitioner desires, he quickly obtains them. But Abhinava does not leave this as a crude formula of magical wishing. He immediately grounds the process in hṛdaya-vīrya, the potency of the Heart.
This distinction is essential, because otherwise the verse can be pulled down into the modern fantasy that desire itself is sovereign: imagine strongly, assume the result, and the universe will rearrange itself around the ego’s preference. That is not the level of this text. Abhinava is not teaching spiritual consumerism. He is not saying that the contracted ego can remain exactly as it is — fearful, hungry, fragmented, compensatory, identity-driven — and simply use the mantra or the Heart as a cosmic wish-machine.
The key phrase is tathāvidha-sarvamaya-hṛdaya-vīrya-samucchalita-icchā-prasara — the expansion of will surged up by the vīrya of the Heart, which is of such a nature and made of all. This is not ordinary wanting. Ordinary wanting is usually thin, divided, contradictory, and wounded. One part of the person wants; another fears; another doubts; another sabotages; another secretly wants the identity of deprivation to remain. The desire may be emotionally loud, but it is not whole. It is not rooted in the Heart. It is often only the noise of contraction trying to repair itself through possession.
Here the desire arises after abhyāsa, after repeated establishment in the Heart-bīja. That changes the meaning of desire. The will is no longer merely a psychological impulse thrown outward from lack. It is lifted by the potency of the Heart. It is supported by a deeper field. Because the Heart is sarvamaya, made of all, its vīrya is not narrow or private. When icchā rises from there, it carries a different force. It is less like egoic craving and more like Śakti’s movement toward manifestation.
But this does not mean that every egoic desire is fulfilled in the way the ego wants. In fact, genuine mysticism often moves directly against ordinary egoic desire. This is one of the hardest points. The contracted self may want comfort, possession, validation, relationship, power, recognition, security, specialness, victory, or a particular life-story. But the Heart does not exist to strengthen the cage. The surge of Heart-vīrya is not interested in making contraction more comfortable. It moves toward freedom, and that often means breaking the skins of identity through which the ego tries to live.
So from the standpoint of the small self, the path may look like frustration, obstruction, loss, humiliation, stripping, delay, or the collapse of cherished desires. The ego may say, “My will was not fulfilled.” But from the deeper standpoint, something more exact may be happening: the false desire is being destroyed because it cannot lead to the Heart. The person wanted an object; the Heart wanted the bondage around the object to break. The person wanted a life according to identity; the Heart moved against the identity itself.
This is why Abhinava’s statement must be read with psychological maturity. The desires fulfilled through Heart-vīrya are not necessarily the random surface-wishes of the ego. They are desires that have been transformed by repeated establishment in the Heart. The will becomes effective because it is gathered, clarified, intensified, and supported by a deeper reality. It is no longer the scattered demand of lack. It becomes a current of icchā-śakti.
The passage piles up words of force: avaṣṭambha, support or stabilizing pressure; viśeṣa-bala, particular strength; udyoga, exertion; saṃrambha, intense mobilization; utsāha, energetic enthusiasm. This is not passive imagining. It is not merely “thinking positively.” It is a whole-being mobilization arising from repeated rootedness in the Heart-state. Desire becomes fulfilled because will, force, clarity, support, exertion, and repeated establishment converge.
That is very different from ego-wishing.
Ego-wishing wants the fruit while keeping the same identity intact. Heart-vīrya may grant the fruit, but it may also burn the identity that wanted the fruit. Ego-wishing says, “Give me what confirms me.” Heart-vīrya says, “Let what is false in you be unable to survive.” Ego-wishing wants manifestation as compensation. Heart-vīrya moves as manifestation from fullness.
This also explains why the path can feel so violent to the constructed personality. The Heart does not negotiate endlessly with every mask. It moves through them. Family identity, spiritual identity, victim identity, achiever identity, purity identity, wounded identity, heroic identity, devotee identity — all these can become shells. If desire is rooted in those shells, then the fulfillment of the deeper path may require their cracking. The ego may experience this as failure. The Heart may be doing surgery.
So yes, the verse says the practitioner obtains what he desires. But Abhinava’s commentary forces us to ask: from where does the desire arise? From the restless ego, or from the Heart-vīrya? Is it a desire that reinforces contraction, or a desire that moves from the all-containing Heart? Is it a demand for possession, or the expansion of icchā-śakti? Has it been purified by repeated establishment in the Heart, or is it merely the old hunger wearing a sacred vocabulary?
This is the serious criterion.
The phrase punaḥ punaḥ tat-sthiti-rūḍhi-rūpa-abhyāsa is crucial — practice whose form is repeated firm rooting in that state. The fruit does not come from one emotional surge, one visualization, one declaration, one act of spiritual imagination. It comes from repeated rootedness in the Heart-state. The practitioner returns again and again until the will is no longer so dispersed, self-deceived, and ego-owned. The desire gains force because the being becomes less fragmented.
This is psychologically exact. Most desires fail not only because the world resists them, but because the person himself is divided. He wants without stability, imagines without strength, begins without continuity, prays without surrender, desires without offering himself into the process. Here, the opposite is described: the will is rooted, energized, stabilized, and supported by Heart-vīrya.
But the highest fruit is still not desire-fulfillment. Abhinava has already warned that siddhi-oriented movement is weaker than jīvanmukti because it remains relatively incomplete. The same warning applies here. Desire may be fulfilled, but if the practitioner remains obsessed with getting what he wants, he remains below the real fruit. The verse itself moves onward to pratyakṣatā and sarvajñatva. The deeper point is not that the ego finally gets better tools. The deeper point is that the practitioner is drawn toward directness and Parabhairava-nature.
So the correct reading is severe but generous. The Heart can empower desire. The will can become effective when it rises from Heart-vīrya. But the Heart will not become the servant of contraction. If the desire belongs to the shell, the shell may have to break. If the desire belongs to the deeper current of Śakti, it may manifest with astonishing force. The practice does not guarantee the ego’s preferred story. It opens the practitioner to a power that may fulfill, redirect, purify, or destroy desire according to the deeper movement of the Heart.
That is why this is not a doctrine of wish-fulfillment.
It is a doctrine of desire entering the fire and potency of the Heart.
The small self wants to get.
The Heart wants to reveal.
And when desire is taken into Heart-vīrya, it either becomes Śakti’s will — or it burns.
The true fruit is sarvajñatva as Parabhairava-nature in this very body
kiṃ bahunā sarvajñatvaṃ - parabhairavātmakatvamanenaiva dehena iti sarvamuktvā
“What more need be said? All-knowingness — that is, being of the nature of Parabhairava in this very body. Having said everything in this way...”
Abhinava now shifts the weight of the verse. After explaining how desire can be fulfilled through the surge of Heart-vīrya, he does not remain there. He says, almost impatiently: kiṃ bahunā — what more need be said? The real fruit is sarvajñatva.
This is the key correction. The verse begins with desire, but it does not culminate in desire. If the reader stops at “whatever one desires, one quickly obtains,” the whole teaching collapses into spiritual materialism. Abhinava does not allow that. Desire-fulfillment may be a fruit of the practice, but it is not the highest fruit. The deeper fruit is sarvajñatva, and he immediately defines it as parabhairavātmakatva, being of the nature of Parabhairava.
This matters because sarvajñatva is easily misunderstood. It does not mean omniscience in the modern informational sense, as if the practitioner suddenly knows every fact, every language, every future event, every number, every historical detail, every hidden object. That reading is crude. Here all-knowingness is rooted in identity with Parabhairava. It is not the accumulation of infinite data by a finite mind. It is the opening of knowledge from the standpoint of the all-containing Heart.
The finite mind knows by collecting. Parabhairava knows by being. The mind stands outside objects and tries to grasp them through concepts, perception, inference, memory, and testimony. But Parabhairava is not outside the field. The tattvas, worlds, knowers, actions, states, and experiences arise in His own Consciousness. Therefore sarvajñatva is not encyclopedic possession. It is the directness of Consciousness knowing its own manifestation from within.
This connects with the previous phrase asmāt pratyakṣatā eti — from this, directness arises. Directness is the bridge between desire-fulfillment and sarvajñatva. The practitioner is no longer relating to reality only through distance, concept, fantasy, and projection. Something becomes immediate. The field is known more directly because the practitioner is no longer standing so rigidly as a separate subject outside a foreign world. The Heart knows the world as its own shining.
So sarvajñatva means: the knower has entered the ground from which all knowables arise. It is not that the ego becomes all-knowing. The ego cannot bear such a thing. It would turn it instantly into madness or tyranny. Rather, the ego-center is loosened, and the practitioner comes to participate in the knowing-power of Parabhairava. The “all” is known because it is not outside the Self.
Then Abhinava adds a crucial phrase: anenaiva dehena — in this very body.
This prevents another misunderstanding. The fruit is not postponed to some post-mortem liberation. It is not merely after death, not after the body is discarded, not after the world is left behind. The practice can ripen into Parabhairava-nature while still embodied. This continues the earlier doctrine of jīvanmukti. The body does not have to vanish for the Heart to be recognized. The world does not have to end for Bhairava to shine. Liberation is not merely escape from embodiment; it is the recognition of the Heart in and through embodiment.
This is a very strong Trika point. The same body that trembles, desires, tires, suffers, practices, breathes, and ages can become the field where Parabhairava-nature is recognized. Not because the body becomes immortal or exempt from karma in a simplistic sense, but because the body is no longer experienced as a prison of isolated selfhood. It becomes a locus of Consciousness, a place where the Heart shines and acts.
This also keeps the desire-fulfillment teaching in perspective. If the goal is Parabhairava-nature in this very body, then desires are not the crown. They are secondary. Some may be fulfilled. Some may be purified. Some may be redirected. Some may be burned. But the true fruit is not that the practitioner finally gets a better worldly life according to egoic imagination. The true fruit is that the very structure of knowing changes. The practitioner becomes established in the Heart to such a degree that all-knowingness, in the Śaiva sense, becomes possible.
This is why Abhinava’s “what more need be said?” carries force. He has already said enough about particular desires. Why multiply examples? The real point is the complete shift of identity. Desire belongs to the field of manifestation. Sarvajñatva belongs to the Heart that contains the field. To remain obsessed with desire after this would be like receiving a doorway into Parabhairava and asking only for small coins at the threshold.
So the hierarchy is clear.
Desire-fulfillment is possible through Heart-vīrya.
Directness arises through the practice.
Sarvajñatva is the deeper fruit.
And sarvajñatva means Parabhairava-nature in this very body.
This is not the ego becoming cosmic.
It is the Heart revealing that the ego was never the real knower.
Bhairavatā arises when the expansion returns into repose
upasaṃhriyate paryante hi prasarasyopasaṃhāre viśrāntirūpākulasattāsādane bhairavatā - ityuktamasakṛt || 34 ||
“It is then summed up: at the end, when the expansion is withdrawn, in the attainment of Akula-being whose nature is repose, there is Bhairavatā. This has been said repeatedly.”
Abhinava now gives the real closure to verse 34, and it is one of the sharpest corrections to spiritual ambition in the whole passage. The verse began with desire: whatever one desires, one obtains quickly. The commentary explained the surge of Heart-vīrya, the expansion of icchā, the force, exertion, intensity, and enthusiasm by which desire becomes effective. But Abhinava does not let the practitioner stop there. He does not say: the goal is more power, more fulfillment, more expansion, more attainment, more capacity, more manifestation. He says the final movement is upasaṃhāra — withdrawal, gathering back, return.
This is the paradox. The path may involve expansion, but it does not culminate in expansion. It may release force, but the force must return into repose. It may empower desire, but desire must be gathered back into the Heart. It may open knowledge, directness, siddhi, intensity, even sarvajñatva, but none of these is final if the practitioner remains standing there as the possessor of expanded power. The crown is not endless spreading. The crown is viśrānti, repose in Akula-being.
This is especially difficult for the modern mind. Modern life trains the psyche to worship expansion. More growth, more productivity, more influence, more visibility, more experience, more self-optimization, more intensity, more performance, more identity, more “becoming.” Even spirituality is often swallowed by this logic. The practitioner imagines the path as becoming bigger: more powerful, more radiant, more awakened, more special, more magnetic, more capable of manifesting desires, more spiritually impressive. The ego changes clothes, but the movement remains the same. It still wants to expand itself.
Abhinava’s line cuts this whole fantasy at the root. Prasara, expansion, is not denied. It is real. Consciousness expands as creation. Śakti moves outward. Desire may arise. Practice may produce force. The Heart-vīrya may surge. But if this expansion does not return to Akula, it becomes scattering. If power does not return into repose, it becomes intoxication. If knowledge does not return into repose, it becomes pride. If desire does not return into repose, it becomes refined bondage. If spiritual experience does not return into repose, it becomes identity.
This is the psychological test. The practitioner must ask: do I want the Heart, or do I want an expanded version of myself? Do I want Bhairava, or do I want to become someone who looks and feels more powerful? Do I want the dissolution of contraction, or do I want the contraction to become cosmic, tantric, luminous, and impressive? This is not a small distinction. Much of spiritual ambition is just the ego trying to survive by becoming vast.
The small self loves expansion because expansion gives it proof that it exists. It can say: I had this experience, I fulfilled this desire, I gained this power, I understood this doctrine, I entered this state, I became different from others. Even subtle realization can be turned into possession. The ego can own mantra, own initiation, own trauma, own devotion, own suffering, own purity, own nonduality, own “Heart-recognition.” It can even own the idea of surrender. Therefore Abhinava gives the final criterion: can the expansion be withdrawn?
This is brutal and clean. If the experience cannot be returned to the Heart, it is not yet free. If the fruit cannot be offered back, it still owns the practitioner. If the power cannot dissolve into repose, it is still dangerous. If the desire-fulfillment makes the practitioner more contracted, more proud, more hungry, more identified, then the apparent success is spiritually ambiguous. It may be success on the surface and bondage at the root.
Viśrānti is not collapse. It is not depression, defeat, dullness, or withdrawal from life because one cannot handle manifestation. It is not the dead quiet of exhaustion. It is the repose of Akula, the unfragmented ground where the movement has returned to source and no longer belongs to the contracted self. It is the place where the practitioner does not need to keep proving, expanding, asserting, acquiring, or displaying. The current has moved; the fruit has appeared or not appeared; the experience has arisen; and then all of it is allowed to rest in the Heart.
That is why Abhinava says Akula-sattā, Akula-being. Kula is the manifested field: Śakti, forms, powers, tattvas, practices, desires, bodies, worlds, ritual, mantra, expansion. Akula is the unmanifest ground, Bhairava, the source in which the whole Kula rests. The path does not reject Kula. It does not despise manifestation. But it also does not let the practitioner become addicted to manifestation. Kula must return to Akula. Śakti must be known as never separate from Bhairava. Expansion must be gathered into the uncontracted source.
Only there is Bhairavatā.
Not in merely getting what one wants. Not in becoming more intense. Not in acquiring siddhis. Not in mystical display. Not in permanent self-enlargement. Bhairavatā is recognized when the whole expansion — desire, power, knowledge, experience, fruit, identity — is withdrawn into Akula-repose. The practitioner no longer stands as “the one who attained.” The attainment is swallowed. The one who expanded is swallowed. What remains is not the enlarged ego, but Bhairava.
This also changes the practical mentality of the path. One may act, desire, practice, create, write, serve, fight, love, build, and manifest. But inwardly, every expansion must carry the seed of return. The question is not only “Can I bring this forth?” but “Can I release it back?” Not only “Can I attain?” but “Can attainment not become my identity?” Not only “Can I experience?” but “Can the experience dissolve without leaving a spiritual scar of ownership?” Not only “Can I become powerful?” but “Can power rest in the Heart without becoming me?”
This is where modern manifestation-spirituality becomes spiritually immature. It teaches the ego how to expand its demands, but not how to die into the source. It teaches wanting, assuming, attracting, becoming, but rarely teaches upasaṃhāra. It rarely teaches the return. And without return, expansion becomes another saṃsāric engine. The person may become more energized, more confident, more successful, even more “spiritual,” but still remain bound by the same basic structure: “I am the one who must get, become, control, and possess.”
Abhinava’s teaching is more dangerous and more liberating. Desire may arise. Desire may be empowered. Desire may even be fulfilled. But the real path does not end in the fulfilled desire. It ends when the fulfilled or unfulfilled desire alike returns into the Heart. The Heart is not there to decorate the ego’s life-project. The Heart is there to reveal what remains when the life-project loses its absolute claim.
This is why the line has final authority: paryante hi prasarasya upasaṃhāre — at the end, in the withdrawal of expansion. At the end means after the surge, after the movement, after the seeking, after the manifestation, after the fruit. The outward motion must complete itself by returning. Otherwise it is not complete. Expansion without return is fever. Power without repose is possession. Knowledge without repose is burden. Desire without repose is hunger.
So the complete movement of verse 34 is not “practice and get everything.” It is subtler and more severe: practice enters the Heart-bīja; Heart-vīrya may empower icchā; desire may be fulfilled; directness arises; sarvajñatva opens as Parabhairava-nature in this very body; and then even this expansion is gathered into Akula-being, whose nature is repose. There, and only there, is Bhairavatā.
The small self wants endless expansion.
The Heart allows expansion only so it can be returned.
And when everything that spread outward is gathered back into the unfragmented source, the practitioner does not become bigger.
He becomes free.
No comments:
Post a Comment